A father s wrath is not to be trifled with
by Dis Thrainsdotter
Summary: Watching an episode of Foyle s War left me with a couple of thoughts that popped up and demanded to be answered. This is an attempt to answer them.
1. Chaper 1, I thought I had seen it all

**The Wrath of a father is nothing to trifle with**

Disclaimer: I do not own Foyle´s War, the tv-series belongs to the ITV and the produktion Company if it isn´t produced in the house. Any recognisable caracters also belong to them. All I own are my ideas and my original caracters.

Author´s notes: I watched an episode of Foyle´s War during which a Mr. Henderson of the MI5 arrested and bullied people. The thought came to me, what would happen if he met someone made of sterner stuff than those he arrested and bullied. Then another thought popped up, if Mr. Henderson sr had a few choice words about his son´s posting and wanted that changed what would he do? This fic is the child of those thoughts.

Chapter 1, I thought I had seen everything

Time: 17th of May, 1940 at teatime  
Place: A Magistrate Court in London

When Mr. Michel Edwards came to the Magistrate Court´s tearoom for a much deserved cup of the strenghening brew he was frowning. Noticing the odd looks from his colleagues he said "I thought I had seen everything during my more than 30 years here but apparently I hadn´t".  
"What happened" asked Mr. John Nichols, "I thought you said nothing lay before you save regular cases?"  
"I did", Mr. Edwards answered "and almost all cases have been regular. Including Mr. McGregor." Everyone nodded since they had all met Mr. McGregor at one time or other. Andrew MacGregor, born and raised in Dundee in Scotland was a normally mildmannered man, very proud of his skills as a carpenter. His one weekness was that he was very fond of the ale brewed at the local pub. Everyone agreed that the brewmaster was very skilled, consequently it was understandable that Mr. MacGregor sometimes had a pint or three too much of it. That didn´t change the fines meted out after those occations.  
"What happened this time?" asked Mr. Nicols.  
"When the pub had closed, he walked along the road singing a bawdy song at the top of his voice and off key" Mr. Edwards answered. "According to the police report it was a toss-up among the neighbors whether the bawdyness, the volume or the off-key singing was the worst part of it."  
"It should be said in his defence" added Mrs. June Connors "that he payed his fines with a lot more grace than most who come here, not to mention that he didn´t swear while doing so." Everyone nodded in agreement, most who came before them uttered the most horrible profanities when they were sentenced and also when they payed their fines.

"What happened then?" Mr. Nicols asked.  
"A case came before me" Mr Edwards answered "conserning Disobedience of a Police Officer in the Exekution of his Office. Which does happen at times but usually involves young men, not middle-aged women." Everyone in the tearoom sat up when they heard that. "To add to the unusualness it was one of the foreign women with a name that is hard to pronounce, but she helped by saying her name means 'Honurcrown' which made spelling a lot easier."  
"Very conciderate of her" Mr. Nicols commented and the others nodded in agreement.  
"After the pleasantries I read out the charges against her" Mr. Edwards continued "and asked her how she pleaded. She replied that she declared herself not guilty of the charges. I asked her to explain that and she told me that to begin with she doesn´t regard anyone as a Police officer simply because he, or she, says so. Anyone who wants to be regarded as a Police officer by her has to do at least one of two things. If said person did both, that would be preferable but one is good enough. I asked her what they are and why she doesn´t demand both of them at all times and she said that depending on the case a police officer works on it is impossible to demand both at all times, one of them is however possible at all times and that was the one she demanded. She added that one of the two things was that a police officer should wear a proper uniform by which she didn´t mean the black leathercoat outfit of an SD agent. The other was that the Police officer should show a genuine Police badge because she doubted any Scoutcourps would provide badges for Police officers."  
"Scoutcorps?" Mr. Nicols asked. "Why on earth would they do such a thing?"  
"Beats me too" Mr. Edwards told him. "She described the badge and said that the text on the bottom end of it had read Lond … Outcorps which certainly doesn´t indicate any Constabulary or the Scotland Yard. The center had held an image of an eagle, a full length profile looking left to right and none of the contries that have such an emblem has any power here. The top end had been covered by his fingertips, probably to cover his name. He had named himself Henderson but the only person by that name she knows is in his late fifties, works for the Foreign Office and wouldn´t want to be seen dead in such an outfit."  
"That sounds strange", Mr. Peter White commented. "What did you do then?"  
"I asked her to describe the events of april 17th and she began by going through the morning routines which included the morning school run. After that she had two appointments before she went home, sorted out the finances to make sure they could pay the salaries on the 25th. She went to the biweekly meeting of the Wive´s group where they discussed all kind of matters from global to local. After that she went to the meeting of a parish commitee dealing with what her husband refers to as the 'after service coffee hour' since there were matters that needed to be discussed. After that meeting she had been on her way home when she had seen a man in a black leathercoat near a black car that looked like a London Cab without the signs with two more men inside it and her SD-alarm had started to ring. She knew she had three choices, she could turn around and walk in the other direction but that would make her look obvious and she was sure there were other men nearby looking for such actions. Then she could continue in the same direction and on the same pavement but that would have made it easier for the person inside the car to grab her. So she chose the third option, crossing the road and continuing on the opposite pavement. She did so and was almost parrallell with the car when this "Henderson" approached her and demanded that she should get inside the car. 'Says who' she replied and the man named himself Henderson and showed her the badge. She saw that it was not a police badge so she didn´t move, instead she declared that the MI he had mentioned probably ment Mutilation International. He hadn´t mentioned that he was a police officer before that but at that time he told her she would be arrested if she didn´t follow orders but she refused and told him she wouldn´t be arrested because he wasn´t one. The stalemate was then broken up by an Army Attaché who told her he would escort her to the Embassy. When Mr. Henderson told the Attache his Ambassador would be informed of his interference with police matters the Attaché merely said that it would not be needed as he would inform the Ambassador about the attempted kidnapping of his wife and also said that both Whitehall and Sofia Albertina would be informed about the matter. Then the pair left the scene."

All of them were amazed by the tale. This Mrs. Honourcrown was apparently made of steel in order to face a man who tried to kidnap her with such calm. "What did you do then?" Mr. Nicols asked.

"I declared her not guilty" Mr. Edwards answered "since she could prove that the man had neither dressed nor acted as a Police officer. Nor had he showed her a genuine police badge which he should have been able to do if he was the genuine article. She looked quite relieved when she left."

Everyone found the case quite odd to put it mildly. What on earth was going on? Men going around in the city calling themselves police officers and forcing people to go with them, probably taking then goodness knew where and doing heaven knew what with them. Surely the world was near the end.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2, What happened?

**The Wrath of a father is nothing to trifle with**

Disclaimer: I do not own Foyle´s War, the tv-series belongs to ITV, Greenlit and Eleventh Hour Films. Any recognisable caracters also belong to them. All I own are my ideas and my original caracters.

Author´s notes: Since I do not know the first names of Mr. Henderson jr or Mr. Henderson sr I have decided to call them Peter and George respectively. I have called the head of the London office of MI5 P for obvious reasons, he would not have used his real name.

Time: 17th of may 1940, also at teatime  
Place: An office in London

Chapter 2, What happened?

In a nondescript office, located in an office building that looked exactly like the other office buildings in the area three men sat around the desk. All of them were looking at the badge that lay on top of it. The text on the badge innocently declared it to belong to a member of London´s 21st Seascoutcorps and was the center of attention in the room as it belonged to mr. Peter Henderson, one of the men in the office. He looked worried and had many reasons to be so.

The second man in the room was named Mr. Martin Higgins, a lawyer and member of the MI5. He had worked there for many years so calling him a mere lawyer was the understatement of the decade.

The third man in the office was called P by every MI5 member working in the Greater London area. He had learned the hard way that his devoted service to King and Contry had given him many enemies. Many of them wanted his guts for garters and he had no intention to make it easier to find him.

At the moment P and Mr. Henderson alternated between glaring at the badge and glaring daggers at each other, while Mr. Higgins merely looked amused. The whole situation had indeed been badly handled and there would be hell to pay for the one responsible for it but right then that person wasn´t named yet.

"Why in God´s name didn´t you look at the badge?" P asked Mr. Henderson in a very annoyed tone. "Not to mention, where is your service badge?"

"It had the weight and size of my service badge so I didn´t feel the need to look at it." Mr. Henderson was as annoyed as P was and made no attempt to hide it. "And I have no idea where it is. The only one who could have come near it is my father", he added, "last time we met he was very angry because I had joined 'the sneaky-beaky corps' as he calls it. He told me that I should leave and return to the Regiment, as he regards that as the more appropriate service for a Henderson."

"The fact remains" P told him sharply, "I still need to talk with her but that is almost impossible now."

"it is" Mr. Higgins said calmly. "She doesn´t go anywhere without a bodyguard and neither does the children. She looks around her for anyone who might follow her and makes sure she isn´t followed." Looking at P he added sharply "I have told you Umpteen times, going around in that clothing will backfire on us at some time or other. Even the refugees have told you that but you haven´t listened."

"I know that" P sighed, "but I am not the one who decides how we should be clad. The high-up´s are the ones who decide that and they have not replied to my letters."

"In the meanwhile they howl at us for a disaster they have caused in the first place. As usual", Mr. Higgins said also sighing. "What do we do now?"

"First of all, Mr. Henderson needs to locate his service badge. I guess asking your father would be a good idea" he told the young man.

"I will do my best but he may not answer", Mr. Henderson told the others. "Once he has made his mind up not even dynamite will be able to change it."

"Secondly I do need to talk with that woman. Would you mind writing a letter to her for me? P asked Mr. Higgins. "Tell her that she will not be kidnapped and that I am willing to meet her at a time and place of her choosing."

"I will also do my best" Mr. Higgins answered. "I will also explain what MI5 is as it is clear she has not been informed about it." P nodded in agreement. "I believe it would be wise to write the letter on my law firm´s stationary as that would be less threatening to her."

"Do that" P told him. "And please appologise for the way she was approached, it was not our intention to scare her." Glaring in Mr. Henderson´s direction he added "I know it is amusing to you to look like a movie hero but such actions do not give any results in the real world." Mr. Henderson had the desency to look contrite. "And now I need to write a report about the case, telling the high-ups what a mess they have caused. I will meet you in a forthnight, unless I have lost my job." His weak attempt at humor fell on deaf ears as he knew it would. He still felt the need to try it. The men quietly went out of the room, leaving P to it.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3, What have you done with it?

**The Wrath of a father is nothing to trifle with**

Disclaimer: I do not own Foyle´s War, the tv-series belongs to ITV, Greenlit and Eleventh Hour films. Any recognisable caracters also belong to them. All I own are my ideas and my original caracters.

Author´s notes: I have given Mrs. Henderson the first name Claire since I do not know what her name is. I place the Henderson family home in Mayfair, I believe that area is where such homes are located.

Chapter 3, What have you done with it?

Time: 17th of may 1940, at dinnertime  
Place: The Henderson family home, Mayfair

Mrs. Claire Henderson looked between her husband and her son, feeling very angry and annoyed. The coldness between them was almost palpable, just as it had been the day Peter had finally told his father he wouldn´t join the Regiment but serve King and Country in a different capacity. She had in fact been very surpriced when she found the house still standing that evening, she had been certain that the volatile emotions contained between the walls would tear the house apart. The two of them had not said a word to each other the following three months and it had taken a visit from her brother to make them stop acting like overgrown fiveyearolds, as John had told them in no uncertain terms.

She had in fact been very relieved when she left the dining room after dinner. It had taken all her resolve to remain calm before the butler, who had informed her that young Mr. Henderson had come home in a foul mood; a clear sign that something horrible had happned. Before she left she told them to take their murders outside, as it would take a lot of time to get the bloodstains out of the carpets.

Peter had in fact been very angry when he returned home after the unfortunate meeting with P and that lawyer friend of his. The tales about their work together during the Great War had baffled him and he was certain that if they had been sent to Ireland the tension that had led to the Easter Uprising would have been dissolved in a peaceful manner, resulting in fewer men killed. Having to meet them like that was not to his liking, he was certain that the stain of that meeting would make his career slower for some time. As a rule, P gave an agent his or her assignment and then allowed the agent to get on with it. Having to tell his superior officer, not to mention P himself, that he had failed in his task was the hardest thing he had ever done and he didn´t intend to fail like that ever again. He did however admire her steely resolve, she had clearly told him that he wasn´t a police officer but a member of a kidnapping organisation and that she had no intention to go anywhere with him. As she and the Army Attaché had left, she had told him to tell his bosses she had met the originals and hadn´t been impressed by them either. She clearly had guts and he wasn´t above admitting that he admired her for it.

Finally he looked at his father for the first time and said "you made me look like a fool, both the 16th of april and today. I had the MI5 version of the interview without coffe today. I hope you understand that I could end up behind bars, considering what I know about their work."

"It was my intention that you should look like a fool" his father said bluntly. "How on earth you could consider that cloak and dagger service to be honourable is beyond me, we have always served in the Regiment and you should be doing that now. Not going around doing that sneeky-beaky job." Looking at his son he added "you have no idea how it hurts me that I have to tell my friends that you have abandoned the honourable service in the army and draw shame over the family name. What do you think your uncle in the Foreign Office will tell you?"

"That I am doing my best to keep the empire safe" Peter told his father calmly. "You know that I am too short to join the Regiment, the rules say that you have to be at least 6' tall in order to join and I am only 5'5" so I needed to look for another way to serve." The two of them glared daggers at each other for a while before he continued. "I must ask what you have done with my service badge because I need it. I can´t go around using my scout badge for that purpose."

"I put it in a box and sent it to them, together with a letter where I asked them to release you from their service and send you to the Army where you belong. You should leave the sneaky-beaky work to the lower classes, a gentleman should not serve there" his father told him.

"You know that the first Henderson was a man of the lower classes before he was nighted for his services to King Harry" Peter said tiredly. "It took a long time for our family to be regarded as more than upstarts and the first one to be regarded as a gentlman was your great great grandfather."

"That´s beside the point" George said angrily. "I do not like the fact that you go around arresting people, no better than a common kidnapper. The thought that you should torment british subjekts makes me feel ill and I am sure there are better ways to find out what nefarious plans people have."

"I am afraid that the torment is needed to make the hardened people I deal with tell me what I need to know. There are far too many who are willing to sell their services to the highest bidder, even to Adolf himself. I am sure we have not flushed out all the Nazis here in Britain and that there are more of them in higher places than I would like." Peter felt sorry to have to tell his father these ugly truths but he was afraid that was what it took to make his father see the World for what it was, a more dangerous place than he imagined. The World was not the same as it had been during the Great War, when the opposing armies had celebrated the first wartime Christmas with a cease-fire. The nazi agents that came to Britain were of hardier stock and wouldn´t give up their information unless forced. "The fact remains, I need my service badge and I hope you still have it around. My boss have made it quite clear and he means it."

"I am sorry" George told him, "I took the box with your badge and the letter to the post office, addressing it to MI5 headquarters, London to make sure it reached the right persons." Peter merely sighed. He would have to hope that the reception desk at the headquarters would send it back to him but that would apparently take a while. He would have to make do with a piece of paper where he declared that he was indeed an MI5 agent and not 'a bloody kidnapper' as the woman had called him.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4, Epilogue

**The Wrath of a father is nothing to trifle with**

Disclaimer: I do not own Foyle´s War, the tv-series belongs to ITV, Greenlit and Eleventh Hour films. Any recognisable caracters also belong to them. All I own are my ideas and my original caracters.

Author´s notes: And here we come to the end of the fic, where P finally gets to meet the woman he needed to talk with. He also hears the tale about their service in Berlin and the events there.

Epilogue, Service is service

To the immence relief of Peter Henderson, his service badge was returned to him faster than he had thought it would together with the letter his father had written to "the head of MI5, London". He had certainly not been beating around the bush about the matter, he had stated clearly that his son should not go around grabbing people on the street and take them away but should do an honourable service in the army, preferably in the regiment the Hendersons had served in for generations. He had been very relieved when he had met P and Mr. Higgins a forthnight later.

Mr. Higgins had not been lazy either. He had written to the woman on the stationary his lawfirm used, appologising for the actions of Mr. Henderson and explaining that they needed to talk with her about some persons she had met who had turned out to be traitors. He also told her about MI5 and what their mission was. The woman had replied with a cautious letter and finally agreed to speak with Mr. Henderson about the persons they needed to check. She warned Mr. Higgins that she wouldn´t take any sause from him and he could be evicted at a moment´s notice. Both Mr. Higgins and Mr. Henderson found that to be fair and accepted the conditions.

The interview finally took place three weeks later and Mr. Henderson found the woman he had tried to arrest to be a charming person. She told him about the men she had met and her opinion about them. Unsurpricingly it was less than pleasant for all of them, she had in fact found them to be boring and without knowledge about the situation in Germany as it had been when they had been there, not to mention what the situation was right then. The diplomatic grapewine kept them informed about what happened there and was the swiftest form of communication.

Finally Mr. Henderson asked the question he had been itching to ask the whole time. He asked about the SD and what kind of organisation it was. She told him that SD was the acronym for the german word Sicherheitsdienst, meaning Security Service, although Insecurity Service would probably be a better name for them. They were clad in black leather coats, black widebrimmed hats and black shoes and had the task of making sure the party members, particularly the members of the security services followed party rules. She spoke about how persons who were disliked by the Party suddenly dissapeared, how the papers would later write that the person so-and-so had died from a car crash, committed suicide or some other hogwash of that manner. One of the tales was about the night of the long daggers; the night, or rather nights, during which the majority of the menbers of the Nazi Stormtroupers had been killed and how they had heard the shots fired from the former cadett school used for that purpose.

"You see," she told him "you couldn´t live in Berling without developing an internal alarm system to warn you when they were near. When I saw you that day it started howling so loud I felt sure the people around me could hear it as well."

"It wasn´t my intention to scare you" Mr. Henderson replied. "All I thought of right then was that I needed to talk with you about the men asap, before they learned that they were wanted. Not to mention that I didn´t know my service badge had been replaced. It was nice of you to talk with me, particularly after the fright I gave you." The two of them agreed that it had been a dreadful meeting and shouldn´t be held against him.

The following day Mr. Henderson was able to report his findings about the suspect persons and their conversations with the Ambassador´s wife. She had not been impressed by them and had not been cooperating with them in any way. Some time later the MI5 changed the way they were clad, finally answering the letters sent to them from P about the adverse reactions those they wanted to speak with showed when they were seen.

The End.


End file.
